


The Moon over Pikus Pond

by Trollvine



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Horror, Monsters, Priests
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2018-01-23
Packaged: 2019-03-08 09:32:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13455426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trollvine/pseuds/Trollvine
Summary: A young priestess encounters an entity and faces her first test of her abilities in combating evil.





	The Moon over Pikus Pond

**Author's Note:**

> This went through nearly five different versions of the story before i settled on this one. It started as a work to fix as many gross words as i could into a short story, and while this has been done, I think i've only scratched the surface of how much gross vocabulary there is. As such, this may get a sequel, spinoff, or sibling tale in the future. Thanks for reading!

Jena walked slowly through the trees, her boots swishing gently against the grass. The leaves above her sighed in the evening breeze, the very last tinges of golden light marking the treetops as the midsummer sun vanished below the far horizon. High above, dark clouds scudded across the sky, chasing the fading light into the west. She was a tall young woman, and took long strides along the nearly overgrown forest path. Her brown robes swayed to and fro, and her walking staff tapped gently on the odd stone among the gravel of the pathway. 

Jena was a priest, newly set loose into the world by the church to aid and assist the common folk by any means they might require. She came from a sect that had grown in her home province of Westfall, and had chosen to preform her duties in a style known as “The Path.” She would not settle and tend to a regional church for many years, until old age had forced her hand. Instead hers would be a life of wandering about the kingdom in a cycle that followed the seasons, offering her aid at each town and village she might come across, staying for a while before moving on again. 

A stronger breeze gusted, tossing a few strands of her brown hair that had escaped the ponytail that hung down her back. The silver holy symbols and charms at her belt jangled softly, and she shifted her hips and slid the charms with her hands, trying to keep them quiet. 

Yesterday, she had come across a small cluster of cabins in a clearing a few days west of Goldshire. They functioned, it was explained by a kindly old man living there, as a rest stop for people traveling the long route through the forest. There were sleeping quarters, a working kitchen, even a stables and a functioning bath house. 

But there had been an unease in the air. People did not want to stop there long, and the handful that worked and lived in that section of forest were ill at ease. Something in the earth had gone wrong, the old man had said. It was when Jena had pressed him that he had told her of the pond. 

Pikus pond was a small body of water, tucked a mile or so back of the little cluster of cabins, in the gently rising foothills of the mountains that reared high north of Elwynn. The little settlement enjoyed the clean, fresh water that trickled from it in the shape of a small brook running along the back of the cabins. The old man, Krenn, had said that in all his life the pond had always been curiously clear, the water notably refreshing and cool. Krenn boasted of never succumbing to any ailment, on account of his daily intake of the water, and it was whispered that the little ponds waters could cure ailments and disease, if sipped at night when the moon was full. 

But over the past few months the water had gone off, slowly, day by day. It was no longer cool, but oddly warm. It slugged along where once it had trickled, and those who drank it now complained of an uneasy, sick feeling that lurked like a brooding cloud that settled on the soul. Deer, rabbits, and other game, once so plentiful in the region, had not been seen in weeks. Krenn had switched to drinking from stored barrels of water and cider, as had the rest of the little community, and should this vital resource be lost, travelers would lose the beloved waypoint along the Elwynn path. More importantly, this strange feeling could be a symptom of some greater wickedness. 

The trip between the cabins and pond was taking Jena longer than she expected. She dug out her lantern from her pack, and quickly sparked it into life. The tiny flame flickered in the metal housing, casting dancing shadows over the trees. Jena continued carefully, keeping her eyes on the rough path and tapping along with her staff. 

As she walked, Jena though of her training, her time spent in studies at the church in Stormwind, how she had loved taking the children of the orphanage out and around the city, and tending the gardens and flowers in the park. She though of Gladys, sullen and sweet at the same time, and Vivian, quiet, strange, but kind and patient beyond compare. She smiled, and wished for a moment the two of them could be here with her. 

A gentle gust of wind sighed through the trees again, and with a sudden wash of pale light, the clouds broke before the rising moon. Jena looked behind herself, marveling at it. She could see why the Kaldorei called the moon a goddess, and she offered her own silent prayer. 

She nearly tripped over the two wooden steps at the edge of the clearing. The hem of her robe caught and she cursed, stumbling. She looked around quickly, regaining her bearings. Then she saw it. The moonlight shimmered and waved across the surface of the pond before her. Her lantern light caught the edge of something man made, and she raised her lantern to reveal a sign post, driven into the soil. 

“Pikus Pond.” 

The hairs on her neck bristled, and with a start she saw her breath billow from her lips in a wispy cloud. The clearing was cold, far colder than any part of Elwynn should be in midsummer. There should be crickets, she noted, perhaps the calls of night birds or the croaking of frogs. But the glade was silent, and ominous.

Jena thought she could feel eyes on her, and she turned this way and that, scanning the clearing and the pond. It was perhaps 20 yards to the opposite bank, and a few more to the opposite edge of the forest. The tree trunks loomed dark, only the top spindly branches touched by the soft moonlight. But the notion of another presence would not leave her senses or her mind. 

Jena faced the pond, and closed her eyes. She drew in deep breaths of the cold air, exhaling them slowly and deliberately. With her mind, Jena reached out, feeling through the slowly flowing undercurrent of strange and arcane energies that ran through the whole world. 

It was cold. Something, was cold. Something in the pond. Jena’s mind found it and was shaken immediately by an alarming sense of danger. Her psychic sight showed the pond as a yawning abyss of solid black, oozing and creeping within the icy waters. Panic scrambled through her brain, and Jena’s breathing picked up quickly. Whatever this was could see her now. It looked into her psychic eye as it would look her eye to eye in the real world. 

Jena was inexperienced, untested, and young. How she was able to wrestle with this fear in the darkness of the clearing was a mystery to her. But she planted her feet, fighting to focus her mind through the panic and the fear that clawed at her brain. 

Who….

It was the shadows. They, or it, or whatever it might be, spoke to her in her mind. Her eyes were closed but she could tell the water of the pond was rippling, surging and churning, as though something beneath the surface had begun to move. 

Young…. 

The voice again. She could hear it clearly, and the presence of the clearing was stronger now, like someone finally entering a room properly in the real world. Her skin crawled beneath her robes, and the glade grew colder. She could hear the sloshing of the pond’s waters now. 

Child… mmmmm…..

Jena gathered herself. She could feel the essence of this spirit, she could nearly taste the composition of it. The ritual might work, if she dared to try. She could break her concentration, she could turn and flee and alert the church, and they could come back with an army of holy warriors and lay waste to this thing. 

But what of those in Elwynn then. She had revealed herself to this thing, and it knew of her and her knowledge of it. She had exposed it, and if it was powerful, if it could catch her before she got away, if she died fleeing… 

Fear…..

Jena found her strength again. This thing would be unbound, by her hand. She knew the ritual, had practiced it before and seen it done. She grit her teeth and tried to master her breathing, to focus her mind and draw her energy into herself as she began to weave the spell, keeping her eyes closed.

Something thrashed beneath the surface of the pond. It writhed and squirmed and wriggled about in the slimy waters, churning debris and flotsam in its wake. The water dragged on the grassy edges like greasy sludge, thick and heavy. The energies were coming fast, and Jena wove the spell quickly but surely, knowing she needed to preform this rite properly the first time. There would be only one chance. 

Aaaaaa……

Jena gasped, the spell quavering in her mind. The surface of the water broke with a syrupy splash, and something gurgled in guttural tones. Sweat was breaking out on her skin, and she trembled with a shiver. She could hear movement, and something crawled on to the grassy shore. 

The thing from the pond croaked, a slopping belch of a sound. There was a squelching sound, a wet cracking noise, and Jena could feel the presence now, horribly real, in the physical world. In her psychic eye, there was only a messy smear of black, and the twitching golden sparks of the spell she was working. 

Child…. I can hear you, child…. 

Jena hated to, but she syphoned off some of the gathering energy, pushing it instinctually into a warding spell. She felt the chill air fade slightly, and the pulsing energies of the ward rose up in a gentle arc before her. The thing from the pond made a strange choked hiccuping sound, which Jena took several moments to realize was laughter. 

That energy…. so pure…. 

The weaving was nearing completion. Jena gasped aloud as she felt the thing slam into the warding spell, making it waver already. She dared to syphon some more power into it but knew she could preform the weaving or fuel her ward, but not both. 

With a crash, the thing hurled itself again against the ward, and it shattered. Jena was still drawing energy into her spell, but the breaking ward buffeted back against her mind. She dared not open her eyes, but the presence of the thing was right in front of her. The air grew damp, with a hot sickness fighting the gripping waves of chill, and a sickly rotten stench struck her nostrils and nearly made her gag. 

Yes….. taste me……

Something coiled around her foot. She let out a choked cry, and something grasped at her arm with the texture of slimy leather. An oozing snarl washed a wave of icy, rancid air over her. Something freezing cold wrapped itself around her forearm and tried to pull. Jena pulled back with all her strength, somehow maintaining her focus on her spell. The energy danced and flickered in her psychic sight. 

Let me feel you, child…. Let me feel you….. 

Jena held herself rigid, fighting her instincts that roared at her to break this spell and flee for her life. She could feeling something wriggling, like a mass of worms creeping to the top of her boots and crawling up her bare legs. They crept, wrapping and entwining her skin in their slime as they quested upwards towards her thighs. 

Something touched each of her cheeks, like a lover holding her face in their hands. It rolled over her warm skin like wet ice, and squeezed her, like fingers. Whatever mass it might be was in the crude shape of a hand, and something dripped from the thing to her shoulder in huge soft plops of liquid that stuck to her clothing. 

Come to me….. such a good girl…..

She sobbed in horror as something probed at her lips, and whimpered as she tried to close her mouth and maintain her breathing. Many somethings with the texture of skittering insects and creeping slugs began to scuttle across her face, beneath her hair, down her neck. Something opened before her face, and she was caressed by a soaking wet piece of soft, spongy matter that dripped foul smelling juices across her chin and chest. 

Let me….. taste you….. Let me taste you… inside of you….. 

Jena felt a surge of angry defiance, and she drew power from it. Energy pulsed into her as whatever stood before her drooled and slopped it’s fluids onto her face and robes. The thing heaved, a moist cracking grunt as something pulpy and frothing gurgled and churned up the thing’s interior reaches. Jena could only guess at anatomy like a stomach or throat, her quavering discipline still keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. 

Her psychic sight was scrambling in her panic, but the spell was so close, so close to completion. She grimaced at whatever mystery things were prodding at her face, trying to pull herself away from the squirming masses that clutched at her neck and chest. Something groaned, and a wet, snapping, sloshing sound cracked and snorted near her face with the creaking sound of opening jaws. Her legs and thighs tingled, feeling like maggots or worms were thrashing in a myriad of tiny bodies. The stench in the glade was nearly overwhelming, and her stomach quaked with each rancid lungful of air she was forced to take.

You’ll make such a morsel, child…. such a lovely little mouthful….

With a wild crack of energy, the spell was woven. Jena screamed, and her eyes flashed open for a brief second. In the golden blaze of the unbinding she saw a visage that would stay with her for years. The face was vaguely human in shape, made of a bubbling black mucus that squirmed and wriggled, the flesh alive with crawling movement. The eyes were absent, sunken hollow sockets that leaked tears of greasy ichor above a rotten mouth full of snarled, twisted teeth. Fungus and mold bloomed like a rotten garden about the form of the thing, and the grasping at her ankles and arms was the work of wretched cords of degraded, moldering muscle fibers that writhed and slithered like filthy black tentacles. 

NO! WRETCH!!!!! 

The hideous figure managed one shriek of rage as the spirit animating the appalling body was diffused back into the swirling aether. There was a blinding flash, and a withering stench like burning corpses, suffusing the area and physically forcing Jena back as the wretched tentacles of rotten muscle snapped and burned. Jena screamed and slammed her eyes back shut,   
flourishing the release of her magic. 

No!…. I will not be…. driven away…..!!! 

The effort was overwhelming, and the golden light seared into her vision. Her psychic sight collapsed, and as the spirit howled in a death wail, she collapsed. Her head struck something hard as she toppled, and the world went black. 

 

Conscious thought ebbed back to Jena in gentle waves. Her body below the shoulders was wet, but the water was calm and comfortably cool. Her head rocked back and forth gently, and she opened her eyes. She was lying in the pond, but she started when she realized the water was softly glowing, as though lit from below the waters surface. Between the trees above her, the moon shone bright and powerful, casting a soft white light into the small glade. 

Something touched her leg, and she drew back. The surface of the water broke, and slowly, the head of a young man broke the surface. His features were soft, and he was smiling gently, his naked skin illuminated by the water and the moon and something from his own slender form. He stood fully in the shallows, the water coming up to his thighs, and he smiled down at Jena. His eyes were dark, but kind, and long silvery hair waved slowly around his head, as though still underwater and billowed by gentle currents. From his upper back sprouted six long, thin blue tentacles, which wavered out behind him, like the trailing whiskers of some great sea fish. 

I was….. unwell…… I am so sorry….

Jena felt his voice, softly and respectfully touching at her psychic mind. She was still overwhelmed, and could only nod dumbly. 

Priest…. my savior….. Thank you….. i owe you a great debt……

The boy took a step backwards, then another, and began to sink back into the pond, still smiling, until he vanished beneath the surface, and was gone. 

Please…. Do not forget me….. please……

Jena held perfectly still, waiting and anxious. But nothing else happened. Just her, the moon, and the calm waters of Pikus pond. The unease was gone from this place. She rose slowly, crystal clear water dripping from her robes and hands, smelling fresh and sweet even now. 

Jena found her staff and lantern, coaxing it back into life and feeding it a bit of magic to make it glow warm, drying out her soaking robes. She sighed deeply, and looked to the path that would lead her back to the cabins by the road. 

Good…..bye……

Jena did not turn back. But she smiled and offered a prayer to the moon, leaving the glade to the serenity of the gentle light, and the crystal clear water of Pikus Pond.


End file.
